Tennison By Any Other Name
by Socket-52
Summary: "You moan too much, you drink far too much and you're a pain to work with but I like you."


**Coding:** DS Jane Tennison/DI Richard Haskons

**Spoilers:** Prime Suspect 4: Scent of Darkness

**Tennison By Any Other Name**

She's done it this time and she knows it. They all know it.

The moment the wine was out of the glass, the moment she lost her temper, the moment that bastard Thorndike got the better of her. And it was just a moment but now she's looking at the end of her career. Who wants a DS that throws claret in her peers face?

But it felt so good, that moment. So good.

Jane left the ball immediately, only Patrick and Haskons chased after her.

Patrick yelled at her in the street – was she insane? Did she realise the ramifications of what she'd just done? But she felt liberated. She'd been eating their shit with a smile on her face for years.

Haskons is quiet – no recriminations, and she can see the concern in his eyes and she wonders why he came running after her too. She has his loyalty as a member of her team but he was choosing her over them and that was a dangerous hand to play because she was going to loose this round.

Words like 'insubordination' and 'suspension' circle her brain, but she's euphoric - high on feeling justified, feeling she's got one over them, for once.

Patrick's ranting and it irritates her.

"Oh do stop going on!" she snaps at him and starts to walk away.

"Going on? You should go back in there and apologise," he yells over the noise of the traffic.

She stops, turns and stares at her lover. "Apologise? For what? Thorndike being such an arsehole? That bastard had no right to delve into my private life to try and discredit me. It's bad enough I have to put up with his chauvinistic back-stabbing at work but I won't tolerate my private life being impinged on and if you don't understand that, then…"

Patrick stares questioningly at her. "_Then _what?"

"Then you're not the man I thought you were," she replies, pulling her coat tighter around her.

Patrick raises his arms, as if washing himself clean of her. "What are you going to do now, Jane? Throw claret in my face because I disagree with you?"

She glares at him. "Piss off Patrick," and she turns and starts down the road again.

Jane's heels click against the pavement, her feet hurt and she's cold but she won't admit defeat – she keeps going because that's what she always does.

"Oh, very mature Jane - " she hears Patrick mutter but he doesn't follow her and she doesn't stop.

Haskons stands alone on the street, his Guv walking in one direction and Patrick in the other. After a moment, he pursues Tennison.

He soon catches her up. Jane eyes him as he falls into step beside her; he doesn't offer any words of conciliation or sympathy and she appreciates that.

They walk side-by-side in silence until they reach the nearest pub. She stops and looks at him, somehow he resembles a dishevelled schoolboy. She smiles warmly at him, glad she's not entirely alone.

"Fancy a drink?" she asks, suddenly struck that it's always her asking him out for a drink.

"Sure," he says.

They step into the pub, both feeling over-dressed in their formal wear. They get a couple of odd looks from the regulars.

At the bar Tennison orders a double whisky for herself and a pint for him, then they sit at a corner table.

The pub is filled with smoke and chatter.

She takes a large gulp of whisky and crosses her legs. "I want to thank you for your support during the re-opening of the Marlow case," she tells him.

Haskons shifts uneasily, he still feels guilty about telling Kernan about their trip back to Marlow's lock-up and the café: she reads it in his body language and leans towards him, putting her hand on his arm and gently applying pressure. "It's alright Richard, you did what you thought was right - and you came through for me in the end. That's what's important."

He nods, her fingers feel as if they're burning through his skin and this close, he can smell her perfume and the sweet scent of shampoo in her hair. A heady combination.

She draws her hand away and sits back, picking up her whisky glass and cradling it in both hands.

He sips his beer. "What do you think they'll do?"

She shrugs. "Given that I was just let-off of suspension and got a bollocking for insubordination, I imagine I'll either be transferred to another station or fired for behaviour not befitting an officer of my rank," her tone is light but he can see the anxiety creep in.

After a tense silence she exclaims. "Fuck 'em!" and downs her whisky. "They've had it in for me from the beginning… well now they have the excuse they need to get rid of me."

Her eyes are distant and he wants to comfort her. "They can't get rid of you – you're too good, too high-profile. They can't sweep you under the rug. I'll get the lads to back you up, we'll sign a petition – go on strike – we'll - "

She grins. "Thanks for the thought Richard but if I'm going down, I'm not taking anyone with me."

"But - "

She leans toward him again. "No arguments, okay? I don't want to jeopardise anyone else's career. Understood?"

He nods reluctantly.

She holds out her empty glass, he takes it, goes to the bar and orders her another double.

When he returns to the table, she's removed her earrings and jacket, exposing her well-defined shoulders and neckline. She tugs at her left ear lobe, pink from being pinched by an earring.

He pulls at his bow tie until it's free and hanging loosely about his neck. "I feel a bit like mutton in here," he whispers.

She laughs, glancing around at the regulars. "Not quite _The Ritz_," she jokes, flashing her first genuine smile of the evening. "But it will do."

He sips his beer. "How are things with Patrick?" he asks, knowing it's none of his business, but he can't help his curiosity.

She's surprised by this inquiry. Any personal conversations they have usually revolve around his twin daughters.

Jane takes a breath. "I think, given our earlier shouting display, the shit has officially hit the fan. By the time I get home his stuff will probably be gone and I'll have a _Dear John_ letter waiting on the hallway table. I should probably invest in a recycling company, the amount of those I get!"

Richard shrugs. "You need to date someone in the same line of business - "

"I did. It was awkward and made sure Thorndike got promotion over me. Hardly a success story!"

Richard leans forward and kisses her cheek.

She is startled. "What was that for?"

"You moan too much, you drink far too much and you're a pain to work with, but I like you," he says.

Tennison smirks. She holds up her glass in toast. "Here's to us!"

Richard raises his glass. "To us," he repeats.

They clink glasses and grin at each other.


End file.
